The Keeper of Blackwood Field
The rain fell on Blackwood Field as it had fallen for three generations—relentlessly, indifferently, as though the ground itself had forgotten what game had once been played upon it. Elias Blackwood stood at the edge of the pitch, his boots sinking into mud that smelled of coal smoke and old money, and watched the rusted stumps of the wicket stand jut from the earth like the ribs of something...
0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 2 Views 0 önizleme